


If I'm the bow then you're the arrow

by sirona



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: BAMF!Danny, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://cradle-song.livejournal.com/">cradle_song</a> requested Steve/Danny: we always see Danny being in awe/stupefied over Steve's badassery--write something where Steve is blown over by how awesome Danny is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I'm the bow then you're the arrow

His arms hurt. So do his shoulders, his whole fucking body is on fire from the stretch of his hands tied above his head where he's hanging from a hook bolted into the ceiling. And thug #1 is swaggering closer, a vicious smile on his face that promises Steve another round of pain in the not-too-distant future. Steve's alone, and they're asking questions, but he'll be damned if he gives up his team. Over his dead body, never mind that that might happen sooner than he'd anticipated.

Just as the thug is reaching for his hammer, there's a soft _thock_ on the far side of the warehouse, the upper half-floor that had been deserted when Steve had climbed through the window, before he'd been caught and strung up like a piece of meat. The thug in front of him jerks -- there's a fucking _arrow_ through his neck, long and wickedly sharp. The thug keels over with a faint gurgle, hands scrabbling over his neck before his eyes roll back into his head and the wet sounds die away. Almost before he's stopped twitching there's another _thock_ and the ropes binding his wrists slither down his arms, sliced clean through. He drops to the floor, lists a little until he gets his bearings, and looks up.

He almost can't believe his eyes. Danny stands there like a fucking avenging angel (god, they must have drugged him, what is he even thinking), longbow drawn and arrow cocked, eyes narrowed on the space behind the nearest crate. Before Steve can even move, Danny's let loose two arrows in quick succession, and there are two almost instantaneous thumps from behind it. Steve peeks around the corner and sees thugs #2 and 3, the latter still with the pliers in his hands, arrows straight through both their skulls, dead before they could even open their mouths to shout.

Which is fortuitous, because there are twenty more where those three came from, on the other side of the warehouse, close enough that the sound of a gunshot would alert each and every one of them.

Frantic waving catches his eye, and he looks up to see Danny signal for him to go round the back and slip out of the side door. Steve knows there's another guard there, but he trusts Danny, always, with his life and everything else, so he complies, hobbles to the door with his knees still aching fiercely, only to see the sentry laid out just like the others, an arrow straight through his heart. Steve opens the door a crack and slips out into the inky night, hugging the wall and looking around. More movement, and he watches Danny crawl out of the tiny window above him and jump lightly to the ground, bow secured to his back. Danny signals for him to follow and lopes away; Steve follows clumsily, legs shaking a little from hours of hanging down. Danny keeps pace, assesses him with sideways glances that Steve would normally resent the fuck out of, but are now simply reassuring. Danny's here. He has his back.

Finally, they reach the warehouse in the next lot over, round the corner and then at last Danny stops, pins him to the wall, runs slightly shaking hands all over him, fingers searching out injuries and broken bones.

"Danny, I'm all right," Steve rasps, has to catch Danny's arms to stop his feverish exploration, rubs small circles into the muscles tight with the strain.

"Goddamn it, Steve," Danny whispers back, clenching his hands into fists over Steve's hips.

"Where's the back-up?" Steve asks, more to keep Danny talking than actually wanting to know. They're probably surrounding the place as they speak, if Danny went in.

"Ten minutes away," Danny says. Steve stares.

Danny strolled right into a warehouse teeming with bad guys, armed only with a longbow and a bunch of arrows, and took out every single thing in Steve's path to getting out of there, all without waiting for back-up. Steve feels a little faint.

"Wow," he manages.

"Yeah," Danny says, shooting him a look. "Don't get used to it. ... _Really_ don't get used to it."

Steve's grinning so hard, blood's pumping all the way through his body, and he wants to shove Danny against the wall and _kiss_ him until neither of them can breathe, wants to have those arms and shoulders over him, wants Danny above him and around him, wants Danny to hold him down and take him, as hard as Steve can stand, and then some.

Later, he promises himself. For now, he draws Danny in, presses their foreheads together, breathes in the light huffs Danny lets out, terrified and relieved at the same time. Steve knows, because that's how he feels, too.

As soon as this thing is over, he's taking Danny to the firing range and making him teach him how to do that. And it might be a good idea if they're alone, because keeping his hands off Danny when he's like _that_ , focused and competent and _incredible_ , well, that's a full-time job in and of itself.

Right now, there is Danny's breath over his lips, Danny's scent in his lungs, and it's everything Steve will need in this life and the next.


End file.
